


Could Bring Himself to Forget

by OrangeZest100



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe - Genie/Djinn, Angst, Fluff and Angst, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-04-12
Updated: 2013-04-12
Packaged: 2017-12-08 06:09:43
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,277
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/757987
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/OrangeZest100/pseuds/OrangeZest100
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Alternate Season 8 post Taxi Driver.<br/>Sam missing Lucifer stuff and general ANGSTY PAIN.<br/>The character death is somewhat resolved along with really small, brief mentions of Destiel that don't impact the storyline at all.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Could Bring Himself to Forget

**Author's Note:**

> Came from the song "Lovesick Fool" by The Cab.

At first he was glad, he even truly believed this to be a miracle for almost a minute and a half but the mannerism was completely off and it becomes more of a horrible reminder of that life, that piece he’ll never admit that he had, because it was supposed to be torture and it was anything but.  Coming back was the real torture.  It was a mocking echo, a stain of lipstick and mascara on a pillow case, an old t-shirt with paint splatter, and every derisive laugh was more a cigarette dug into his skin then the reality of him was.  Then he’s gone, like a fire extinguisher applied to a flame, scissors to a picture, a frame falling from a shelf, an unexpectedly broken guitar string, and it was a _relief_ for so long, because the cheap imitation put together by his own fragmented mind were pain, nothing like the _reality_ of that being, and even when it got lonely without him, he could bring himself to _forget_.  That’s why it almost kills him, because he forgot what it feels like in 5 some years without it, and he’s walking through those hallways, lost souls calling for his help, searching for one, and he can _feel_ it, along his skin on his bones, and tugging at his soul.  He wants to go, wants to go so badly, but he has a _duty_ and he doesn’t have time.  So Sam leaves, frees Bobby from Hell, returns to hunting with his brother.

He only realizes it when they finally return to the Bat-Cave, sleep in their own rooms.  He sleeps easily, curled in on his side towards the door, and when he wakes, he stretches luxuriously, hand sliding down subconsciously to grasp the fingers that are mysteriously missing from his hips.  Frowning slightly, still mostly asleep, Sam rolls onto his stomach, head towards the wall, reaches out his hand to grasp at the opposite side of the bed.  His eyes snap open when his fingers find cold, empty sheets.  There’s a pain deep in his chest, a feeling he doesn’t really have a word for (or at least no good ones), and he takes his open palm and fists it in the cold blankets.  If the trails were acid rain on the remodeled rose bush of his soul, he thinks it might be starting to rot from the inside.  He doubts the rose buds will flower.  Suddenly, the room is too small, too blank, and too _quiet_ and he grabs clothes, rushes to the bathroom, not even bothering with the time.  He showers quickly, sloppily, hopes he doesn’t throw up before dressing and burying himself in books.  Dean comes out to find him an indescribable amount of time later; Sam hadn’t bothered to figure out the time, hadn’t bother to figure out how long he’d been here in the library, and Dean is giving his a worried look, eyebrows furrowed just a bit in-between his eyes, lips turned down slightly at the corners.  “Dude, its 6 AM, why are you even up?”

Sam just blinks and glances down at the watch he’d been wearing the whole time, and with a sinking feeling in his stomach he notices that he wore it during his shower.  The broken time display reads 12:59 AM.  Sam swallows.  “Guess I just wasn’t that tired.”  He can tell by Dean’s eyebrow raise that Dean knows it’s an evasion, but thankfully his brother drops it.  Sam’s not sure if he can even say anything about it.  He doesn’t sleep well for a week, and one night Dean actually wakes him up because he’s screaming in his sleep, and on this particular day he’d gotten up quite early again was going through some of the libraries more obscure texts, only half reading what was in front of him.  He notices when Dean gets up, sees him approach out of the corner of his eye, but Sam just keeps reading, even as his brother hovers.

“Hey, is that Enochian?”  Sam blinks, stares at the text about magic physics that he was reading, notices, for the first time, that is indeed in Enochian.  Sam closes it closed, pushes away from the table and stumbles in his effort to back away from the table as fast as possible, feeling sick.  Dean looks startled, concerned, for several long moments as Sam tries to breathe slowly in through his mouth and out through his nose, but he sees understanding flicker across Dean’s face as well as horror before his brother has picked the thing up and walked quickly out, supposedly to get it as far away from Sam as possible.  Sam doesn’t eat breakfast.  Dean finds a job not too far away, a djinn most likely, and it’s not hard to go hunt it.  Sam wonders briefly why they haven’t seemed to learn their lesson from years before, why they split up to search buildings on opposite sides of town now, but he can’t quite bring himself to care.  It’s his own shitty luck that lets the djinn find him first.  Sam holds the hand back, realizes he can’t quite win, and starts crying.

“Please, you can’t.  You can’t give me that, when I get out I won’t make it.  Please, do anything else you want with me _please_.”

“I’m sorry Winchester.”  Sam blacks out.

He wakes up slowly, kisses placed along the back of his neck and he just hums, curls his fingers around the hand placed on his chest.  He turns slowly in the arms, settles back into the blankets and mattress before opening his eyes, and when he does, he smiles.  He surges forward, kisses with a fury like a tempest, smiles wider as he’s met with an equal ferocity.  When he pulls away they’re both humming.  “That’s a nice way to wake up Sam, any special reason?”

“I just missed you Luke.”  Lucifer’s laugh rings like the choirs of God.

“We’ve only been asleep for about ten hours my love.”

“It felt like longer,” Sam breathes.  He remembers that this is a dream, that this is djinn induced, and he should be scared, should be escaping, but he’s here and he hopes he never leaves.  He kisses Lucifer again, kind of slowly, grins goofily as Lucifer pulls back.  That is, until Lucifer hits him over the head with a pillow.

“Get up, I promised Dean and Cas that’d we’d be over for breakfast, even if it is a Saturday.”  Sam groans, pushes the pillow off his face to stare as Lucifer slips out of bed, walks around their bed to head to their bathroom.  “I call first shower!”

“You’re a fucking tease!”  Lucifer winks, smacks his bare ass, and Sam’s flinging the blankets off to chase him into the bathroom.  They’re late for breakfast.  Dean’s still only half awake when they get their while Cas is bustling about the kitchen in his socks but the two smile, bustle them inside, after a few delays they’re sitting down to eat.  “Good as always Cas.”  Cas face goes scarlet and Dean leans in to kiss his cheek.  Dean chuckles and Sam throws him a look, but Dean waves him off for a moment.

“Sometimes I just can’t believe it, you know?  We quit the life and I become a mechanic, Cas starts his tea shop, you two become damn _florists_ on me.”

“I like flowers,” Lucifer says simply, holds Sam’s hand under the table, and the grin doesn’t leave Sam’s face for hours.  They leave around three hours later when Dean playfully shoos them out, tells them to stop eating him out of house and home as Castiel asks them to come back next week.  They get home, Lucifer pushing Sam onto their bed, kisses him slow as strips them of clothes, peppers kisses to every inch of Sam that he uncovers.  Sam sincerely hopes he dies like this.  They’re quite, they take their time, Sam’s legs wrapped around Lucifer’s waist, his arms draped over the archangels shoulders, and Lucifer presses kisses everywhere he can reach as they pant together.  Lucifer cleans up after and Sam burrows himself into the man’s arms as they lay in bed.  They do nothing for the rest of the day, read or watch TV, just let their fingers touch, and they go to bed at a decent time, and Sam falls almost immediately asleep.  He wakes up in the morning to empty sheets and he panics violently until Lucifer steps into the room, giving him a worried look before rushing over, setting a carrying tray down on the floor.  “Sam?”

“I thought you left.”  He should feel worse about how tiny his voice sounds.

“Never,” Lucifer reassures him, kisses his forehead.  “I thought we got over this?”

“Guess not for today…”  Sam sniffles, wipes at his face with a small laugh.  “Sorry.”

“Don’t be; don’t ever be sorry for needing reassurance, not with me Sam.  Especially today, which was way too momentous in its own right.”  Sam raises an eyebrow, eyes flickering briefly towards the ignored tray before return to Lucifer’s face, raising his arms to wrap his finger around Lucifer’s wrists where his lover’s hands still cup his face.  “Happy Anniversary Sam.”  Sam splutters.

“I forgot…”  Lucifer smiles.

“You always do, no point in having you change on me now,” he says with a wink and Sam can’t help but giggle.  “Now, breakfast in bed or so help me I will get Dean over here to make him feed you.”  Sam’s full on laughing now and Lucifer sings as he feeds Sam scrambled eggs, pampers Sam nearly all day, even more so when Sam gets somewhat uncomfortable.  They wake up Monday morning to their alarms, roll out of bed to showers and kisses and coffee, and Sam can’t stop smiling as he helps some customers find the appropriate bouquets for their loved ones.  He falls asleep exhausted, a thorn scratch on the back of his hand, and arms around his middle, and breath on his neck.

He wakes up to dean’s worried face and a warehouse.  Somehow he remembers the djinn as Dean takes the needle out of his neck, cuts his bindings and lowers him to the ground.  Deans checks the other victims as Sam stares blandly into space, starts crying without him realizing, can’t even move to help as Dean attacks the djinn, kills it easily enough and Sam is the only surviving victim.  Dean tucks him into a blanket, shoves him into the Impala and speeds away, doesn’t say anything as Sam continues to cry.  Sam wakes up to empty sheets until he stops sleeping.  Dean won’t stop worriedly looking at him, but Sam’s just gotten to a point where he just sits around, stares at walls, and if he was honest it’s almost like the mental hospital, accept he doesn’t have that ghostly afterglow to accompany him.

He wonders if the Cage was actually a prison.

One day Dean goes to bed early, so Sam sticks some items in a bag, goes out and drinks so much whiskey that eventually the bar owners kick him out.  Then he goes a buys beer, drinks a good amount of it too before he opens his bag with uncoordinated hands.  Through a stroke of luck, he manages to summon a reaper.  “What do you want Sam Winchester?  Have you been drinking?”

“It doesn’t matter, I need…I need you to take me back.”

“Back where Winchester, you’re not even dead.”  Sam shakes his head, wavering on his feet.

“I need you to take me back, please.  I need to get into Hell.”

“Winchester…you can’t reach what you’re looking for.”

“Well I can _try_!  Why don’t get your boss then, get me out of your hair!”

“Goodbye Winchester.”  Sam swears.

“You God damn _bastard,”_ he screams, throws one of his empty bottles down the street where it shatters against a dumpster.  Unnoticed by the drunk figure, Kevin Tran has walked upon the scene and he carefully roots in Sam’s bag, finds Sam’s phone, and dials Dean’s number as Sam continues to swear and throw bottles.

“Sam?”

“It’s Kevin actually.  If you’re not looking for your brother, you probably should be, he seems smashed.”

“Shit, hold on…where are you?”

“Some back street off of Main; I’ll see if I can calm him down alright?”

“Thanks, you just be careful okay?”  Kevin hangs up, approaches Sam quietly but loudly enough that the Winchester can hear.

“Sam?”  The Winchester turns around, eyes bloodshot all to Hell, grabs Kevin’s shoulders.

“Help me find a way back Kevin; I have to go back, I have to…”  Kevin barely sees the tears in Sam’s eyes before the larger man is collapsing into him, sobbing roughly, even as Kevin wraps careful arms around Sam’s shoulders and rubs his back.  Sam’s asleep by the time Dean shows up and they get him in the Impala, his stuff in the trunk, and they get him to bed.  Dean gets up in the morning to know that Sam is sleeping, for once, and he smiles to himself as he makes some eggs to bring his baby brother.  He walks into to Sam sprawled on the bed and he smiles for a moment until he realizes his brother isn’t breathing.  The plate shatters on the ground.  Sam turns to stare at Death, and he’s pleading with his entire soul before he even thinks of speaking.  Death actually smiles, holds out a hand.

“Let’s take you home Sam.”  Down in the Cage, Sam cries as he clings to Lucifer’s shoulders and Lucifer thanks Death in every word he knows.


End file.
